


in the wings

by hgtvgoth



Category: StarKid Productions RPF, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-04-23 07:15:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19146136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgtvgoth/pseuds/hgtvgoth
Summary: In the wings of a high school production is where romance is born. Saying that won't convince you though, no. You would have to be there to feel the turmoil and angst radiating off our main character, the star of the show, the boy who works behind the scenes in the sound booth, who represses his feelings for the student director through plot convenient hatred. So here you are, in Hatchetfield High School, seeing it all unfold through the eyes of two boys who have no idea what's ahead of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was co-written by my best friend chandler! they are @peachlobotomy on twitter, go check them out!

Perhaps I signed up to be in tech because I know I have the voice of a gutter rat full of gravel, but Charlotte seems to think it’s because I want to watch Zoe prance around the stage pertly. She isn’t wrong, but I’m not a creep. Not completely at least. And besides, I wasn’t even sure Zoe would get a part. But as I walk past the bulletin board outside of the theatre, I notice the cast list is posted and I see her name at the top. Christine. So maybe I was sure she would get a part, but I didn’t know I’d be seeing so much of her. 

Charlotte likes to tease me about staring instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing, and I hate it more than anything, but she’s been on the receiving end of The Stare before, so she deserves teasing rights. What can I say? I was young and horny, and Charlotte was the closest girl to me. Now I’m young, horny, and the guy who got slapped by Charlotte’s abusive ex boyfriend because I was staring at her. I got over her pretty fast after that. So over her that I didn’t talk to her for two weeks. Eventually she broke up with Sam because she found out what he did and she missed me, regardless of whether or not I liked her. Now we’re inseparable, and she has every right to tease me for being a horny bastard. 

“Hey Char-latte. Can I—“

“Listen, I appreciate you trying to give me a nickname, but I’ve told you like twenty times that I don’t want to be named after a latte.” She takes a drink from her water bottle and swallows hard as we walk up the stairs. “Did you see the cast list?”

“Yeah, I was going to ask about it. Can I implore you for a moment? Who the hell is Henry Hidgens? Phantom?”

Charlotte laughs. I don’t get the joke. “Oh, you’re serious. I suppose the only way to describe him is as the guy who played Gaston last year and kissed Lefou on stage.”

“Oh I fucking hate that guy. He’s fucking nuts.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes at me as we turn the corner. She bumps into Sam and he scowls at her—literally scowls, it’s really hilariously petty—but she pays him no mind. “He’s a little eccentric, yes. But he’s quite the sweetheart once you get to know him.”

“Yeah, okay, I’d rather not get to know him.”

Suddenly, Charlotte is blowing a vape cloud and I’m coughing, waving the smoke away and laughing. “Put that up, dude! There are cameras.”

“Oh,” she frowns. “I didn’t even realize...”

I’m pretty sure she has a nicotine addiction. 

We say our parting words as she splits off into the chemistry lab and I continue on to the AV club room, which is really just a storage closet that they stuffed us in during fourth period. Maybe I could be mad about it, but I’d stick the audio/video nerds in a closet too. 

I take my seat next to Paul in the cramped ass closet and pull out a huge ass bucket of strawberry and cherry Red Vines. It’s like Russian Roulette, except you’re happy with any outcome. 

“Want a Red Vine?”

“No.”

“You never want anything.”

“I’m satisfied with life, I guess.”

“Not doing the musical then?”

“Fuck no.”

“How are you?”

“Same soup, just reheated.”

I hum and nod in understanding and that’s the end of the conversation. Paul and I are very close despite the fact that 90% of our interactions go like that. If I didn’t know that Paul is an asshole, I’d think he hates me. But really, he’s a wimp in AV club who doesn’t like fun, but has it with Charlotte and I anyways. He has this hopeless thing for this Emma girl, she works at some coffee shop/bookstore in downtown, which automatically makes her attractive to Paul because that’s gotta be the most bland job you can have. I only go with him because the Latte Hottie, aka Zoe, works there too. And like I said, I’m kind of a creep. At least I admit it though. Fuck, some guys are worse and think they’re saints. 

Sometimes Gay Gaston, or as I now know him—Henry, is reading a book and sipping some presumably more-sugar-than-coffee drink in a corner window seat. I think his mother owns the place because he has a couple of shirts that say Beanie’s on them in some stupid ass retro font, and they’re all oversized and swallowing him, but he wears striped shirts under them and tucks them into jeans and looks good anyways. 

Who the fuck does he think he is? I don’t know why I can’t stand him, but something about him makes me furious. Maybe it’s that everybody likes him. Or he’s obnoxiously There. Or how he could wear a trash bag and look good. It’s kind of unfair if you ask me. 

“You okay there Ted?” Paul asks. “You’re kind of tearing that Red Vine apart like it killed your family.”

“I wish it killed my family,” I say without thinking. Man, now I’m more pissed off. Fuck my parents dude, they don’t do shit for me. They’re gonna be all pissed and yell at me and tell me I’m worthless because I have rehearsal after school for the next three months. What fucking clowns. 

“Sorry, ‘forgot,” he mumbles. “What’s up?”

“You don’t have to ask.” 

“Okay good, because I really did not want to have this conversation.” He lets out sigh of relief and turns back to the computer he’s working on. 

“Can you guys be more quiet?”

“Shut it, Bill,” I deadpan. 

“Paul! Are you gonna let him be mean to me?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Bill scoffs. God, I love Paul. “Sorry Bill, I’m not his dad.”

“Even if you were I wouldn’t listen to you.”

“See? So there’s no point. But I’ll get you a frappe from Beanie’s after school,” Paul offers. 

“You’re not gonna invite me?”

“Do you want to come, Ted?”

“No no no no no, that’s fine,” I say. “The Latte Hottie is gonna be at rehearsal tonight.” I smirk and lean back in my chair, biting into another Red Vine. 

“You are so gross.”

“Oh yeah,” I nod and smile. Then I raise my eyebrows and point my Red Vine at Paul. “Good luck with Emma, by the way, because I’m pretty sure she’s gay.”

“What? No she’s not!” Paul gets really defensive and scrunches his face up. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but she’s not.”

“Paul, buddy,” I smack his shoulder. “You have no chance, my friend. I watch the counter enough to notice that she is gay. I was gonna wait for you to figure it out for yourself but,” I suck my teeth, “you’re kind of dumb.”

“Oh my God, she is, isn’t she? That’s just my luck.” He lets his face fall in his hands. I’ve never seen him show so much emotion. Or any emotions other than indifference, terror, and disgust. 

“Good luck,” I say sarcastically. I’m kind of a dick, but at least I’m not crushing on a lesbian. 

“Ted Richards please report to the auditorium. Ted Richards to the auditorium.” I groan and spin myself in my chair, pick my Red Vines up, and walk out all while holding a groan. I hear Paul call after me a mocking “good luck” in a high pitched voice and I roll my eyes. He’s such a petty bitch. 

I push the auditorium door open with my shoulder, cradling my candy bucket like a baby. No one is here. This is bullshit. I come all the way down here for nothing. I know I should probably wait or actually try to look for someone, but I don’t care. If the situation is not convenient for me, I’m uninterested. I’m going back to AV. 

Just as I’m about to open the door, I hear him. The bastard. 

“Oh Teddy!” A low, sing-songy voice calls from the stage. 

This oughta be good.


	2. Chapter 2

“Oh Teddy!”

I detest that. I don’t think I’ve been called Teddy since my parents loved me. Seventeen years and counting. 

I swear to myself and turn around to see Henry Bitchass Hidgens on the stage, waving me to come up. I reluctantly make my way towards the stage, but I don’t go on it. His face lights up when he sees me for some reason. 

“Are those Red Vines?”

“You can’t have any,” I say quickly. I sound nervous when I say it though. “Why am I here?”

“No idea! Lang and Blim wanna talk to us.” He smiles and says nothing else as he turns and walks backstage. I blink slowly and sigh, having the feeling that I’m going to have to deal with this little shit for awhile. I think he knows what he’s doing, so I follow him into the dressing room where I find Lang and Blim sitting backwards in two chairs, and Henry Bitchass Hidgens sitting himself on top of the counter. 

“Ted! Good, you’re here,” Mr. Blim smiles at me. “We wanted to talk to you two about the show.”

“We have a special assignment for you two.” Mr. Lang says with an unnerving pep in his voice.

Blim chimes in once again. “Since Henry is the student director and Ted is student tech director, you two will have to work together to make sure the show runs smoothly. That means spending a lot of time together outside of rehearsal. So boys, meet your new best friend.”

Student director? “But I thought Henry was—“

“He’s the Phantom, yes,” Lang cuts me off. “But he’s our student director too.”

Okay, I think. It’s only three months. I’ve dealt with my parents for seventeen years, I can handle Henry Bitchass Hidgens for a fraction of the time. I look at Henry and catch him looking back at me, so I pretend I’m just fixing my hair in the mirror behind him. It’s awkwardly silent, at least for me, so I speak up. 

“What exactly do you want us to work on?”

“The chandelier mechanics, the roof scene, the passageways, and certainly the 8D sound when the Phantom is running through the theatre. We’re doing this Majestic Theatre style, they did it best.” Lang says much too enthusiastically. I would much rather be in AV club, which is basically a free period. 

I notice Henry’s hand trying to steal a Red Vine, so I smack it and bite into another one. Then, just to piss him off, I give him the Red Vine that I’ve already eaten part of. No way he would eat after someone he barely knows. 

“Thanks!” He smiles and takes it, eating it quickly. I guess I underestimated what he would do. Next time I need to … estimate him.

“Anyways boys,” Blim says. “We’re entrusting this show in your hands. Here are your scripts. Do us proud.”

“We’ll do better than our best,” Henry promises as we take the scripts out of their hands. “Thank you.”

After concluding this meeting has come to a close, I turn around and begin my dash for the door, but Henry catches up to me and I’m forced to slow down. 

“Uhm. What do you,” I swallow. “want?”

“How about we go to Beanie’s after rehearsal? It’s just a read through, no music, so it shouldn’t take long at all. Just gives us the gist, yknow. Anyhow, I’ll drive. I’ll make us some food and we can—“

“Sounds good, bye,” I say as we exit the auditorium. I make a beeline for the stairs and imagine how stupid I look waddling at top speed. Henry is so dumb. He’s literally wearing a fucking dog chain around his neck and it looks good. Who does that? And his black turtleneck somehow doesn’t make him look like Steve Jobs. I detest him. How does he do that? It’s infuriating. Maybe I’m just insecure because I dress like a Goodwill mannequin, though. 

The second I walk in the AV room, the bell rings. I literally yell “fuck” and manage to get Paul to laugh as I hurry to shove my Red Vines and script in my bag. I don’t even give a shit, I’m skipping science. I’m failing and need to read over the script anyway, which is like 90% score, but still. 

I take a seat on the floor in the handicap stall and sigh. Yeah, fuck this I’m not looking over the script. I’m stalking Instagram. 

I can’t help but search Henry Hidgens in the search bar, and I’m honestly kind of shocked at what comes up, but simultaneously not surprised at all. Of course he has to be perfect online too. 

henry hidgens  
@biobabe  
18 | gay | theatre nerd | he/him

And his account is… pretty. But you didn’t hear it from me. 

It’s mostly edgy pictures of him and photos of his stationary sets (fucking pretentious loser) but every now and then there’s a picture of him being pouty in the sun and his hair is practically glowing a honey color. Every picture is grainy and heavily filtered, but for some reason I have no doubt that this is who he is, unfiltered. God, I hate how he… I don’t know I’m just filled with rage and confusion. I hate him. 

Fuck Henry. Fuck having to spend time with him. 

I sigh and shut off my phone. Then I turn it back on and follow him angrily and shut it back off. I’m dreading the next three months. I thought I hated him before I knew who he was, when I would just see him in the halls and hear him talk to his friends or run spot on him, but now that I’ve interacted with him, I hate him even more because he’s so nice. I was so annoyed by his presence before. And I still am. He’s just so There. He’s everything. Everyone likes him, he’s smart, he’s talented, he’s loud and proud and large and in charge and I hate it. He makes me feel so inadequate. I guess that’s why I hate him so much. Which is stupid. 

I hate thinking about my feelings. I hate that he makes me think about my feelings. I hate him. Jesus Christ. 

I hate today. 

 

The day trudged on and my mood hardly improved. Charlotte told me we have an essay due on the characteristics of life in biology and I groaned so loud I attracted the attention of several passing freshmen. I glared at them and they scattered. That was the most satisfying thing that happened today. 

When rehearsal rolls around, I’m running on low power mode, which means I chugged a Redbull, a Kickstart, and a Monster and hoped for the best about an hour ago. In Ted time, it’s been twelve hours. Charlotte comments on how shaky I am, and I say something about how she has the nicotine shakes. She promptly flicks my forehead. 

“And that’s all for today, thank you guys. See you tomorrow.” I blink in confusion. It’s already over? I must have zoned out. How long has it been? An hour? Two? I check the time. Thirty minutes. 

“Let’s go, Teddy.”

“Cool idea: Don’t call me that,” I smile sarcastically. Caffeine makes me fucking brave. 

“Sure thing, Teddy Bear.”

I roll my eyes and try to ignore him, but it still kind of pisses me off. I get over it pretty quick since I’m practically vibrating from the caffeine and my brain can barely function right now though. I hear Henry talking on the car ride over, but I don’t know what he’s saying. Something about a chandelier, I’m not entirely sure. What I am sure of is that I’m getting pretty fed up with his stupid voice though. It sounds like fucking velvetine. What a bitch. 

When we get to the upstairs of Beanie’s, I pretty much pass the fuck out on the couch. I only know because I wake up to Henry shaking me and handing me a blueberry muffin, which I graciously accept because it’s free food. Unless he poisoned it, the bastard. 

“Sorry I-Sorry I fell asleep. Haha.”

“It’s okay! No worries. You seem kind of out of it.” Thanks, dickweed. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” I smile sheepishly. My chest is tight. Hatred and caffeine make the body feel weird. “Let’s, uh, start?”

“Sure thing!” He smiles. “Yknow, you’re cute when you stutter.”

“I’m not gay,” I say, trying my best not to stutter. “N-Not that there’s anything wrong with-with that! Being gay, I mean. Because—uhm—I-I know you are and that’s totally c-cool, but—“

“I wasn’t hitting on you,” he shrugs. “Just complimenting you.” Yeah sure, asshole. 

“Let’s just start,” I say quietly. I’m never this flustered, and it bothers the hell out of me. I hate to admit it but I think I’m intimidated by Henry. I mentally groan at the thought of him being the reason I’m so messed up right now. How pathetic is that? He probably barely even notices my presence, I’m just a greasy techie, and I’m here obsessing over how much I hate the guy. 

“Have you ever seen a flashmob?” Henry asks suddenly. Is he forgetting the flashmobs the theatre department organizes for every musical? Or is he just trying to make small talk so this is more bearable? Either way, it isn’t working. “Besides ours, I mean.”

“No.” I kind of wish I’d seen some though. “Since the chandelier comes up the second the music kicks in, I think we should have some cue system to prep whoever is running the chandelier. Like, when the—“

“You’re not stuttering anymore.”

“We seriously need to work on this. I want to get it done as soon as possible. I take tech really seriously and I worked really hard to be student director this year, so can we just work?” I think now that he’s commented on the stuttering, I’m actively trying to control it. I only stutter when I’m angry or nervous or hopelessly pining, and I guess I’m kind of a mixture of two of those when it comes to Henry, so I’m not surprised. I didn’t think it was so bad and maybe he’d just assume that I have anxiety or something, but he had to bring it up because he’s a little bitch. Besides, anything I can do to silently spite him, I will do. 

“Whatever you say, Teddy.”

“And don’t call me that.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

I kind of hate coming home. Not kind of. I really hate coming home. Luckily my parents aren’t here right now, and I’m not quite sure why, but I’m not complaining one bit. Their absence means I’ll probably sleep well tonight. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I’m too tired to check it. Whoever it is can wait, it’s Ted’s Napping Hours now. Borat, my sweet Great Dane—well, that’s inconclusive actually—jumps up onto my bed and I immediately hug her. Now I’m really not going to answer my phone. Then my phone buzzes again. And again. And again. Fucking hell, who is this?

Unknown Number

hi there teddy ;)

teddy bear ;)

teddy (pouty emoji)

 

Who the fuck is this

 

aw you capitalize. cute

 

What do you want

Who is this

 

the love of your life starry eyed emoji

 

...Zoey?

 

better! henry!

 

No

To reiterate:

What do you want?

 

uhm ok

i have an Idea for the  
masquerade but i can’t   
explain it over text

so i need you to facetime me

 

No offense but I barely  
want to text you. So no. 

 

pwease pouty emoji

 

No!

 

pwetty pwease pouty x3

 

If I call you will you promise to   
stop talking like that

 

YES!!!!

Incoming call… Henry Bitchass Hidgens

“Hell—“

“Teddy!” Henry’s voice rings through my speakers and I instinctively turn it down, not wanting my parents to hear. But then I smile to myself when I realize they aren’t here. “Aw, you’re smiling! You’re happy to see me. How cute.”

“Uhm, fuck you?”

Henry ignores me and leaps into a detailed description of how he’ll make the entrance into the masquerade and I can barely keep up, but I get caught up in his voice. I can’t help but pay attention to him when he talks. Maybe it’s because he’s got such a stupid voice. Though I barely pay attention, I do notice how his fluffy brown hair flops around his head as he passionately speaks. 

“Teddy? Are you listening to me?”

“Mhm,” I say as I flick a piece of lint off my shoulder. Perhaps I’m exaggerating how much I don’t care because I want to piss him off. 

“Mhm?” I nod. “Geez, it’s pretty hot in here. Maybe I should take my shirt off…”

“Whatever floats your boat,” I mumble, averting my eyes from the screen. My face is hot. This is weird. Right? He’s gay. Is he actually hitting on me or is he just like this? This is weird. He’s probably just messing with me. Right? 

Henry starts talking animatedly once again about his reveal, and I can’t help but watch as he drapes a blanket around his shoulders and starts traipsing around the room like some gay vampire, swooping his arms around and singing operatically. It’s quite entertaining, really.

“Oh my gosh, is that a puppy! Hi sweetie baby! Aw you’re such a cutie patootie, I love you sweet angel. Maybe I’ll meet you one day. Aw, cutie pie!”

Maybe even endearing. I find myself laughing a little. And then I find myself stopping. 

“Ted, care to tell us—Theodore Ezekiel Richards, what on God’s green Earth—“

Henry

Ted hangs up immediately, and my smile falls as he does. I run to my phone and start texting him, asking over and over if he’s okay, but my messages don’t even deliver. Like Freshman Henry once did, I bite my nails—a nervous habit I’ve long since broken—and worry my ass off. My heart is pounding in my chest. God, I fucking hope Ted is okay. 

I force my hand out of my mouth and opt for tapping my fingers against my thigh instead. Biting nails was something straight, anxious Henry did. I’m not going to go back to old habits, no matter how trivial they may be. 

teddy bear (emoji)

please be okay

i know this is dumb but  
idk what i’d do if you were hurt

text me when you can

i’m really worried about you ted

please please be okay

i really hope you’re okay

I turn off my phone and try not to think too hard about Ted, but I can’t help it. I can’t believe his middle name is Ezekiel. That’s horrible. I love it. It’s so cute. Maybe I adore him. 

Okay, maybe right now I should be worried instead of gay. 

I start pacing the room, trying to think of something to do to help Ted. Maybe I should go to his house and steal him away. No, that would probably piss his parents off way more. Why are his parents even pissed off? Did Ted do something wrong? Surely not. Are his parents abusive? 

My face scrunches in distaste as I try to eject the thought from my head, but that seems to be the most logical explanation right now. I don’t want it to be. That’s not what Ted deserves. Maybe that’s why he flinches when I touch him or acts surprised when I compliment him. I don’t even think he notices how he reacts to basic decency. Like he’s never been shown it. 

That’s stupid, I shouldn’t assume anything about how he feels. That’s not very Me of me. I shouldn’t assume anything about him. He hasn’t given me trust to know anything intimate about him, I shouldn’t theorize or snoop. But I can worry. Fuck, I can worry like hell about him, because when he leaves so suddenly the second his parents start yelling, things seem a little more than seedy from the outside. 

Before I know it, it’s six am, and I should be getting ready for school. Where did the time go? Did it go to worrying or to sleeping? I can’t tell if I got any rest or not. My body is so filled with adrenaline and anxiety I can’t feel any exhaustion or relief. 

My leg bounces the whole day, and I watch the clock diligently. Emma tells me to chill the fuck out, but I can’t. I’m worried. I don’t think I’ve ever been so worried. She asks me what’s bugging me every class period, but I tell her it’s nothing. It’s not nothing, it’s just not my business to share. Not at all. 

At 2:30, I literally run towards the theatre from the other side of the school, and just as I approach, I see Ted coming from the other way. God, I am so glad he’s okay. I could cry from relief. He’s okay, he’s fine, he isn’t hurt. Ted’s okay. 

“Teddy!”

We almost fall over when I hug him. My head rests on his shoulder and I ramble about how worried I was, and I can feel people staring, but I don’t care. Ted is okay. He’s okay! I’m holding him so tightly to make sure he’s still alive, to make sure he’s really okay. And he is. 

“Get the fuck off me!” He yells and jerks away from me, shoving me so hard that I literally fall to the ground. I prop myself up on my elbows and look at him in confusion. What’s the matter?

“Ted…”

He looks around at everyone watching us, but ultimately casts his eyes down. “Just stay away from me, Henry,” he mumbles as he walks off. 

Is he really going to skip rehearsal? Because of me?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chandler updated on wattpad a day before me kxjsjmsjxj sorry i’m late i’ve been fucking BUSYYYY

“Ted, care to tell us—Theodore Ezekiel Richards, what on God’s green Earth is going on here?”

“Mom!” I shout, hanging up on Henry and then immediately regretted yelling. “I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

“You didn’t expect us to be back so soon? So you thought you could avoid doing your chores and homework? To talk to a shirtless boy?” I gulp. This looks bad for me. “Ted, I better not find out that you’re fucking gay. Otherwise—“

“I’m not gay,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry I didn’t do my—“

“Don’t cut me off. You’re lucky your father is downstairs, because he would have smacked you for mouthing off.”

“Yes ma’am,” I mumble, averting my eyes away from her. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Ted. And don’t mumble. Speak like a man.” I nod. “What did I just say?”

“Yes ma’am,” I say more confidently now. 

“You can’t even fucking listen to one simple instruction. Do you know how frustrating it is to be your mother?” Do you know how frustrating it is to be your son? “Give me your phone.”

“What? Why?” I say defensively. Wrong move. 

“Do you have something to hide?” I shake my head and hand her my phone, defeated. “That’s what I thought.”

Mom starts looking through my phone, probably looking for something to use against me. Her eyebrow raises and she looks… pleased, perhaps. 

“Good to know you’re denying this boy’s… advances.” I sigh in relief. “I don’t want you hanging out with him or texting him anymore, Theodore. I’m not asking.”

“But mom, we have a project for theatre.” I try not to show my panic. “I have to be around him.”

“Then you’ll just have to quit theatre.”

“No, I—“ she smacks me hard. Harder than she has in awhile. 

“Don’t talk back to me. I’ve already told you. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?” I shake my head. “Then you’ll stop spending time with that queer.”

“Yes ma’am.” 

I actually really want to yell at her for calling him that. I may not like Henry, but he doesn’t deserve to be called names because he’s gay. Or slurs. Or whatever. I don’t like Henry because he’s annoying as fuck, not because he’s gay. That’s probably the only non-annoying thing about him. 

“Good.” She leaves the room then and I hate to admit it, but even her small approval feels nice. Even if I’m heartbroken that I’m going to have to quit Phantom, I’m pleased to have my mother’s approval. 

But I’m pissed that she took my phone. 

I stuff all of my anger inside me, cuddle Borat to my side, and close my eyes in hope that I will wake up in the morning. I don’t really need dinner. Even if I do, I am most definitely not in the mood for seeing my parents for the rest of the night. 

It’s hard to sleep without my headphones in. All i can hear is my AC blasting, Borat’s soft snores beside me, and the TV from the living room through the walls. My mind drifts around in the silence, soon landing on the memories of Henry singing, his vibrato, and how his baritone made the room feel warm and full. It’s dumb. He’s such a fucking try-hard theatre kid. His voice is so damn stupid. This is the worst lullaby possible.

Between tossing and turning, hearing Henry’s voice on a loop, and the TV playing in the living room, I stay up the whole night. Maybe I dozed off a couple times, but not enough to count it as “getting sleep.” I would stay home to sleep today, but I have to tell Lang and Blim that I’m dropping out. That, and I actually have to work on my stupid ass biology essay. Oh, and I hate my parents. 

Charlotte’s horn honks outside, and I know it’s time to get up. So I trudge out of bed and put on a random sweater and a pair of jeans. First backwards, and then I fix them. I have a feeling today is going to be difficult to get through. However I’m going to remain positive. 

I forget about being positive as soon as I fall down the fucking stairs though. I lay on the floor for a moment, contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to get up. It’s not, but I get up anyways. Charlotte’s waiting. 

“You look like shit,” she says when I get in her car. 

“Thanks.” I lean back and close my eyes, hoping I can get even a little sleep before school. 

“Was it your mom or dad this time?” There goes that plan. 

“Mom.” I sigh. “I don’t wanna talk about it, Char. I’ve got a headache. I didn’t sleep last night.”

“It was that bad?” I see her strain to look at the road. I know she wants to look at me, but she’s driving. She’s an eye contact person. 

“I guess not. It was mostly that I hung up on Henry because she burst in and called him a queer and… I couldn’t stop thinking about him all night.” I shrug. Her eyebrows raise. “Not like that. I’m just pissed that she said that about him. And I didn’t have my earbuds, so my brain just went to the most recent song I’d heard. Henry singing Masquerade.”

“Oh, so you’re not gay for Henry,” she says, obviously not believing me. 

“No. I actually hate him. I’ve just been around him way too much for my taste.” I lean my head against the window and try to ignore the bumps in the road. Charlotte’s shock absorbers are shit. “I have to drop out.” 

“Of school?” She asks. 

“Of Phantom. I’m not allowed to hang around Henry at all. I’ll probably get killed or kicked out.” I shrug. I don’t really want to talk about it, but she should know. 

“Ted, you can’t jus—“

“I fucking have to, Charlotte, okay? Don’t try to keep me in it.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond and we continue the drive in complete silence. I tap my fingers on my temple as hard as I can without it hurting to feel something. I’m not sure why, maybe to pass time, maybe to knock some sense into myself. I’m too lost in my thoughts to care about anything I do today. 

We park in Charlotte’s normal spot, but she doesn’t unlock the doors. Her hands are still planted on the wheel and she has her eyes closed, thinking hard about something. She has that face, her thinking face. That face usually preludes something bad. 

“Why don’t you just tell your mom you’re being tutored in science?”

“She’d notice if my D didn’t go up.”

“Then have Henry tutor you when you’re hanging out. He’ll be all over that.”

“We’re not hanging out.”

“Sure.”

 

At lunch, I can barely stay awake to save my life. My hand gets covered in mashed potatoes twice and I get gravy on my shirt, but I’m really just thankful my face doesn’t fall into my food. 

The rest of the day drags on with nothing of note happening until now. Until Henry Bitchass Hidgens yells for me and catches me in his arms—stronger than he looks—and loudly announces how happy he is that I’m safe and alive. Everyone is staring at us. God, I hate attention. 

I was almost considering asking him to tutor me, but now I’m fed up. I don’t fucking care about this musical anymore. I’m going home. 

“Get the fuck off me!” I shove him away and he lands on his ass. I hear a few people gasp. Henry looks hurt. I almost feel bad. 

“Ted…”

“Just leave me alone, Henry,” I mumble, looking away from everyone and walking away before anyone can say anything. Why would he draw all of that attention to us? I hate that. I hate him. He’s the worst. Fuck Phantom. Fuck theatre. Fuck biology. Fuck Henry. 

Fuck, I just think that it should be obvious that I don’t want any attention. Why would he do that to me?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n. both me and my co-author apologize for the mAJOR delay! we’ve had complications in our personal lives that made us push this to the back burner. but no fret! we’ll be back in business soon <3

Charlotte’s been texting me all night, asking where I am, why I’m not at rehearsal, why I pushed Henry. I only know because my mom saw all the messages and decided to let me have my phone back. Now I’m texting Charlotte and explaining, no matter how much I don’t want to. 

Soon enough she’s calling me, and I’m putting in my earbuds and answering her. 

“You’re seriously quitting just because he embarrassed you?” Charlotte asks, obviously unimpressed. 

“Pretty sure that’s what I said,” I deadpan. “Besides, now I don’t have to spend time with him.”

“Yeah, but you’re also not spending time with me.” She pouts. So what? I spend time with her everyday. “Or Zoey.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, exactly,” she says smugly. “So if you want a chance with her, you have to be in Phantom.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck she’s right. Okay, maybe it’ll be worth it to spend unnecessary and uncomfortable amounts of time with Henry? God I hope so. 

“One sec,” I say, pausing our FaceTime to write an email to Blim. Dear Mr. Blim, yada yada yada, sorry I wasn’t there, so so so, family emergency, blah blah blah, love, Ted. “I just explained to Blim why I wasn’t there.”

“You told him?” She seems alarmed. 

“I mean, no. Not the real reason. I told him it was a family emergency. Whatever. Now I have to fucking text… Him.”

“He’s not Voldemort.”

“No, that would be an insult to Voldemort.” Nice one, Ted. “I just can’t say his name,” I whisper. 

“Oh. Yeah. Text him.” Charlotte wiggles her eyebrows and giggles to herself and I roll my eyes at her. I shoot 

Bitchass Hidgens 

Hey.

You need to tutor me for bio.  
That’s the only way we’re doing  
the project. No questions.

 

yes ! of course !! 

His text was completed by a parade of heart emojis. Actually, more than just heart emojis. It kind of looks like Jojo Siwa threw up on his keyboard. 

“God, he’s so gay. In the least offensive way possible.”

“Is he hitting on you?”

“I genuinely can't tell. But my gaydar explodes with every move he makes.”

“Are you sure that isn’t Repressed Bisexual Ted peaking through?” She raises an eyebrow in question and I immediately shut her down. 

“I like Zoey. We don’t talk about RBT because he isn’t real, Charlotte. You’re a really good friend but it pisses me off when you insist I’m bi. Because I’m not,” I snap. 

“...I’m gonna go.”

“Charlotte, wait.” I immediately feel bad for snapping at her. She really just wants what’s best for me, but she needs to understand that I’m not gay in the slightest. I don’t know, maybe if Keanu Reeves were down I would be down, but that’s it. Or Harry Styles. Or that one guy from that one kpop band. Anyways. I’m not gay at all. Or bi, or whatever. 

“I’m just gonna go Ted. I’ll talk to you at school.”

“Love you.”

“Bye.”

Charlotte hangs up and I feel some sort of sensation akin to a rock sitting in my stomach. I don’t know, I never was good with emotions. They always get all mixed up in my head and make my body feel weird. I just know that I feel bad for snapping at Charlotte. 

My phone buzzes and I notice that Charlotte’s texted me, so I click on it as quickly as I can and smile a little at her text. 

Char :)

love you too, ted. 

Thank god, she’s not pissed at me. I don’t want her to be pissed at me. I’d be pissed at me, though.

I think about doing something useful, but I decide against it. Maybe I should tell my mom that I’m going to be tutored after school for the next month or so. Actually, maybe I shouldn’t. Then again she’d fucking kick my ass if I never came home. 

“Hey mom,” I say walking into the kitchen. She seems like a normal mother, happy and smiling. She does that a lot. On the outside you would think that we’re the happiest bunch of people in the world. I even forget how terrible she can be sometimes. “I’m going to be tutored after school for the next couple of months. For biology. I want to bring my grade up.”

“If you actually tried you wouldn’t need a tutor, Ted,” she says with a bitter smile. “How much do I need to pay?” She wipes her hands off on her apron and sets her knife down—thank fucking god—and looks at me expectantly. 

“No, it’s-it’s free. The tutor is a guy from my class, he—“

“It isn’t that gay boy, is it?”

“No, he’s a senior. I’m a junior. His name is Harry,” Okay, that works. “and he said he’d do it for free.” What would make him seem not gay? “He’s on the baseball team.” Fuck, that’s pretty gay. 

“Oh. Well, okay. Good.” She looks surprised that I’ve managed to do anything for myself. I’m surprised too, but ouch. 

My phone buzzes and I check it hesitantly. For some reason, I’m scared I’ll get yelled at for being on my phone. It’s just Henry, asking if we can meet up at Beanie’s to work on some stuff. I just say yes because I don’t have an excuse to get out of it. 

“My tutor wants to meet up so I can study for an upcoming test, I’ll see you later.” It’s chilling how easy it is to lie. 

“Bye, love you.”

“You too.” We both know that’s a lie. 

I grab my backpack really quickly and rush out the door, eager to get out of the house, but anxious to spend the next 3 or so hours with Henry. I’m starting to feel my skin crawl at the thought of him. Or maybe it’s just that it’s fucking 34 degrees outside and I’m in a thin-ass t-shirt. I am an idiot. Henry is going to think I’m an idiot with no fashion taste. But you know what? I am. Fuck Henry lives. Enough overthinking this. I need to go.

I eventually walk my way to Beanie’s—I wish my parents would let me get a car—and my god do my fucking legs hurt. I wish I lived closer to downtown but alas, I’m poor.

I open the door to Beanie’s. With a ring of a bell, my body is overwhelmed with warm scents of roasting coffee and muffins and books. This place always felt nice, with the plants and local artists’ paintings on the walls, and the faint smell of pastries and old books. I smile a little before remembering how I’m going to be spending time with my mortal enemy here. 

Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but what can you do?

Before I realize it, Henry is yanking me to the upper level to sit on the couches. I see food and papers scattered about, letting me know he’s been here awhile. I kind of like it up here, the employees only area. I don’t like climbing a ladder to get here, and I don’t like Henry coming with the place, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

“Were you okay?” Henry immediately asks the moment we’re situated. 

“I can still leave.”

“I was worried about you,” he ignores me. 

“Why?” I shouldn’t have asked but I just did, so whatever I guess. 

“Because you’re my friend.”

Oh.


	6. Chapter 6

Henry thinks we’re friends. I don’t think we’re friends since we’ve known each other for—what? Two? Three?—a few days at most. I barely tolerate him. He’s just so perfect and precious, how can you not hate him? 

Despite every bone in my body telling me it’s wrong, this is a trap, turn back now, I smile. We’re friends. Even with the pure hatred that fills my body when I see him, like a boiling in my stomach, I smile. I like the idea of us being friends. Maybe it makes me feel valid in how awful I am that someone so picture perfect doesn’t think I’m annoying and terrible. 

“I’m your friend?”

“I did indeed say that.” Shut up, oh my God. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he mimics, smiling just a little. Maybe he’s blushing too. Oh fuck does he like me? God, I hope not. I would never—not that there’s anything wrong with—he’s just—I’m not—we wouldn’t—I—gay. 

Did I just no homo myself? C’mon Ted, your masculinity isn’t that fragile. Then again, maybe it is. 

“Okay so—“

“What’s your biggest fear?” Henry blurts. I mean it explodes out of him like a balloon letting out all of its air. Like he really wants to know my biggest fear. I don’t know, heights? “Mine is isolation. Which is kind of ironic, because I only ever push people away and isolate myself when it gets to be too much.” I don’t ask what it is, but I could take a few guesses. 

“Mine’s… heights, I guess.” I don’t know why I’m humoring him. 

“No, I mean like a real fear, Ted.” Being afraid of heights isn’t valid? What the fuck. “What makes your stomach tie in knots about? What keeps you up at night? What makes you shut down?”

The unknown. My emotions. Judgement. RBT. Rejection. 

“Heights, Henry. I told you that. I’m terrified of falling off of things. It gives me nightmares.”

“Ugh, what a weak fear. How are you so tall but afraid of it? Ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry?”

Henry just laughs and flips his script to the roof scene. The blocking is written in the margins in a beautiful loopy cursive that I couldn’t even try to read. I follow suit, the light cues written in in my oh so graceful chicken scratch. Poor excuse for handwriting honestly. 

I look over to Henry and see that he’s writing something, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. It’s mesmerizing. Watching the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes squint when he’s thinking extra hard, or how the words flow from his pencil like magic. I don’t even know what he’s writing, but I stay focused on his hands, holding the paper still and gliding the pencil across the page. His hands look like they were sculpted from porcelain. 

I hate it. 

At least, it feels like I do. My chest is all tight and my jaw is clenched just looking at him. I guess my body’s visceral reaction is to hate him, even if I’m starting to… tolerate him. I mean, we are friends after all. My body should just get over it. It’s probably my teenage boy hormones making me mad at everything and everyone that moves. It’s the angst. Gross. 

My ears are hearing everything he’s saying, but my brain is barely processing it. I hear myself answering, but I’m on autopilot. I can’t focus. He’s too much. I don’t know what it is, but it’s making my head spin and my heart pound. I’m going to punch him. Jesus Christ. 

“Zoey’s having a party tonight. I don’t know if I’ll go, but she invited everyone in Phantom. You should go. Charlotte told me you’re ass over eyes for her,” he laughs. 

“I think it’s head over heels,” I mumble. “Since when do you talk to Charlotte?”

“I’ve known her since she was Annie her freshman year. I know you did tech then, but I barely saw you. I never talked to you because I thought you didn’t like me.” I don’t, I want to say. I don’t because we’re friends now. Weird. 

“Oh. Well, we’re not really getting much done now. We should wrap up early, yeah?” 

I think I’m so eager to go because I want to get away from Henry, think about how we’re friends now, and honestly just stop thinking about Phantom. That, and I really want to go to Zoey’s party. Maybe I can convince Charlotte to come with me. She isn’t in Phantom this year because she has softball—she’s trying something new and she hates it—but she’s still involved as much as she can be. Maybe she won’t want to come because Zoey has a small grudge against her, but if I beg her she will. I hope. 

“Alright, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you at Zoey’s tonight. If I go, I mean.” 

“Yeah, maybe.”

I gather my things and say goodbye to Henry, still a little shaken by the fact that we’re friends now, I’m civil now, and I leave Beanie’s in an anxious haste. I call Charlotte while I’m walking and she answers will a frustrated groan. 

“What, rat?”

“Okay, ouch,” I huff. “Party tonight. Zoey’s. I’m gonna go for it.”

“She’s with Sam.”

“No. No. Remember when they broke up a couple weeks ago and we all thought it was temporary but then she dyed her hair blue and we knew she meant business?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” I hear her shift on the other side of the call. “We’ve gotta make you look hot. Get over here in five I’ll let you borrow my skinny jeans.”

“Charlotte, I’m not wearing your clo—“

“You wore my t-shirt to school today.”

“...I’ll be there in three minutes.”


End file.
